Near the corner of William Howard Taft Rd and Columbia Parkway in Cincinnati is a short, round-topped tree with stout thorny branches and a dark, deeply furrowed trunk. During the autumn, the glossy leaves turn an earthy iron oxide color – a prominent contrast to the white art deco retaining walls of the expressway. On our way home from my piano lesson one late afternoon, my mom and I came to a red light at the intersection of the two roads. I happened to glance out the window at the osage orange tree admiring the color when something on the ground caught my eye. There near the curve lay a globular bright yellow-green fruit resembling an overgrown mulberry. Never having seen anything quite like it, I promptly pointed it out to my mom. Leaning over to see the ground, she exclaimed with delight that it was an osage orange and told me to grab it. I swiftly opened the door, got out of the car and picked up the large wrinkled fruit. Getting back into the car, I giggled with pleasure at having done something so avant-garde. I could just imagine the curious glances of onlookers as an eight-year old girl dashed out of a car at a busy intersection to pick up a large fruit. As the light turned green, I placed the fruit to my nose and inhaled a delicate citrus perfume.
The ethereal brilliance of the osage orange memory is something that I will always carry with me. What I ascertained from it is so simple, yet profound. Most things that are of general benefit are the products of spontaneous actions and discoveries, as we learn moment by moment.
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